Page 60 of Orc'd At A Wedding
I grab my purse from the nightstand, the same overpriced designer clutch I carried to the rehearsal dinner, and I can feel my hands shaking as I check for my phone and wallet and the car keys I won't need because I took a rideshare to this godforsaken resort.
"I need to pack," I say tightly.
"Bliss—"
"Don't." I hold up one hand, not looking at him. "Just don't. You've made your position very clear. You think being with me is a logistical nightmare that will ruin my life and expose me to unacceptable risk. Fine. Message received. Now let me pack my things so I can get out of your way."
I move past him, heading for the closet where my suitcase is still sitting half-unpacked from yesterday, and I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.
The silence in the suite is suffocating.
I yank open the closet door harder than necessary and pull out my luggage, dropping it on the floor with a thud that probably disturbs the guests in the room below. I shrug as I move to the dresser, pulling out the clothes I hastily shoved in there when we first arrived, back when I thought the biggest problem I would face this weekend was surviving my cousin's reception.
"You are being irrational," Olog says quietly from behind me.
I freeze, a silk blouse clutched in both hands, and I feel something hot and ugly twist in my ribs.
"Irrational."
"Yes."
I turn around slowly, the blouse still dangling from my fingers, and I look at him standing there in the middle of the suite, tall and imposing and absolutely infuriating.
"I'm being irrational," I repeat.
"You are allowing your emotional response to override the clear practical concerns I have outlined."
"Oh, I'm sorry." I throw the blouse into the suitcase. "I didn't realize emotions weren't allowed in this relationship. Should I have been taking notes? Should I have rated your performance on a feedback form?"
His eyes narrow. "That is not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, Olog? Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you're saying I'm too stupid to understand the very serious and important reasons why you need to protect me from yourself."
"I did not say that."
"You didn't have to." I move back to the dresser, grabbing another armful of clothes, and I can feel the anger building in my throat like bile. "You're doing that thing men do when they've already made up their minds and they're just waiting for me to agree with them. You're not actually interested in my opinion. You're just going through the motions of having a conversation so you can feel like you gave me a choice."
"That is not?—"
"It is." I shove the clothes into the suitcase, not bothering to fold them, and I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. I cried enough yesterday. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cry again. "You've already decided this is over. You've already convinced yourself that walking away is the noble thing to do. You're just waiting for me to make it easy for you."
He moves then, crossing the room in three long strides, and suddenly he is right there, looming over me, his presence filling the entire space between the dresser and the bed.
"I am trying," he says, his voice low and tight, "to make a responsible decision."
"For who?"
"For both of us."
"Bullshit." I look up at him, and I can see the frustration in his eyes, the same frustration I feel coiled in my own chest. "You're making a decision for you. You're the one who's scared. You're the one who thinks this can't work. I'm the one standing here telling you I am perfectly okay fc about the risks, and you're ignoring me."
"I am not ignoring you."
"Then listen to me." I take a breath, steadying myself, because if I'm going to say this I need to say it clearly. "I don't need you to protect me from your life. I need you to let me be part of it. I need you to trust that I know what I'm getting into. Ineed you to believe me when I tell you that I want this, all of it, even the scary parts."
He stares down at me, his jaw clenched, and for a moment I think maybe, maybe, I've actually gotten through to him.
Then he steps back.
